


Start Anew

by orphan_account



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Pre-Slash, if only there were 10 more words it would be 1666 and that would be funny right?, there's nothing wrong w/me ok
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-24
Updated: 2012-11-24
Packaged: 2017-11-19 09:33:40
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,656
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/571819
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>sixwingedmorningstar on Tumblr wanted:</p><p>"a fic where Lucifer comes back out of the cage (and because I thoroughly believe that it was Sam’s own subconscious version of Lucifer and not the real one he was hallucinating) and discovers what Hallucifer did to Sam and comforts Sam because he’s really hurt that Sam thinks he would do those things to him."</p><p>So I mostly did that.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Start Anew

**Author's Note:**

> Right, so I wrote this at 2 A.M. (God help me.), and I know it's not my best work, but you people seem to like my stuff, so I decided to post it here anyway. As an aside, I just really, really love this idea. This summer or winter break, I think I might rewatch s5 and s7 so I can get Lucifer's character down more solidly and write a much longer story with this premise. (And it will probably have a lot more humor in it, which I know everyone appreciates :P)

Sam’s dreaming of sizzling flesh and silent screams when it happens.

He’s stretched out on a rack with a nail bed, and Lucifer’s singing “Ain’t No Rest for the Wicked” as he drums his fingers on Sam’s burning forehead. Then, for some reason, his drumming fingers stop, and he sort of _flickers_.

Sam squeezes his eyes shut, fearing the worst, but Lucifer just says, “Well, this is an interesting turn of events, isn’t it?” The fiery pressure from his fingers vanishes, and Sam squeezes his eyes shut even tighter, not wanting to know what awful thing the Devil has planned for him next.

Cold, calloused fingers grip his temples firmly but not painfully, radiating cool relief that surprises Sam into releasing a whoosh of breath he hadn’t even known he’d been holding.

“Sam,” Lucifer says, and he sounds different. Soft and sorrowful, upset but accepting. It’s not what Sam expects. The hands move away, sliding through Sam’s hair, and only the hunter’s pride prevents him from whimpering at the loss. A set of distinct clicks sound, and searing metal releases his wrists and ankles. Sam starts to sag, only to bite back a scream as sharp spokes start to pierce the skin of his back.

“Now that’s enough of that, Sam,” Lucifer says, sounding disappointed for some reason, and suddenly Sam’s resting on what seems to be a cloud.

He opens his eyes.

He’s in a cheap motel room, like the one in the very first dream Lucifer showed up in years ago, and somewhere in the back of his head he wonders if the Devil knows of any type of room besides motel rooms. The Devil himself is perched on the bed beside him, watching him thoughtfully.

“I thought you’d be free of torture once you escaped the Cage, but instead I find you doing even worse to yourself. Why?”

Sam double-takes, eyeing Lucifer suspiciously. This is new. Sam wonders if the Devil’s biding his time, lulling Sam into a false sense of security, but then something –Lucifer’s new air of sorrow, his lack of mockery, hell, even the returning presence of the subtle weight he’d always seem to carry before Sam threw them into the Cage- _clicks_ in Sam’s mind, and he panics, shuffling back in the bed and shoving himself against the headboard as Lucifer watches calmly. “You escaped, didn’t you? It’s really you,” Sam says, and Lucifer gives a single nod.

Then Sam winces and hisses softly, his sad, bloody body screaming at him for his thoughtless retreat up the bed.

Lucifer’s eyes widen slightly, his lips tightening into a thin line of frustration. The bed dips as he stands up and walks around it to hover over Sam. The hunter starts leaning away, ignoring the pain of old and new scabs cracking open with the stretch. “Sam,” Lucifer starts to admonish. “I said I’d never hurt you.”

Sam stops moving away for some reason, but still doesn’t relax. “But-"

“That wasn’t me. All the torture, none of _that_ -" disgust drips of the word, “was me.”

Sam narrows his eyes in disbelief. “But I've been imagining you that way for a reason.”

Lucifer freezes, an indefinable look flashing across his face. “Just let me take care of you right now, and I’ll explain.”

Sam grits his teeth. “Why do you have to ‘take care of me’? If that’s really what you want to do, can’t you just pop it all away in an instant?”

If anything, Lucifer’s look of pity grows, and Sam can’t stand it. “I can’t ‘pop it away’, Sam, because it’s not physical. It’s all in your head, and wounds like that take time.”

Sam swallows and looks down, his shoulders slumping in defeat. He knows it’s all in his head. It always is.

He knows it’s a Winchester thing, too, but that doesn’t stop it from happening.

“May I help?” Lucifer asks earnestly.

Sam looks up at him with challenge in his eyes. “Do you plan to restart the apocalypse?” he asks bluntly.

The Devil sighs, looking away. “Michael’s still in the Cage,” he says softly. “Heaven’s in ruins. And Earth… No, there’s really no reason to restart the apocalypse.” He looks back up at Sam, suddenly impatient. “So now may I help you?”

Sam swallows and nods reluctantly.

Lucifer releases a small breath of relief and holds his palms over Sam’s forehead. “Close your eyes,” he murmurs. Sam sees the golden glow already starting, so listens and closes his eyes uneasily. At this point, though, he’s willing to take anything as long as it’s not torture.

He feels a pleasant chill radiate over the skin of his forehead, and it slowly trails across his face and down his neck, relieving him of his aches and pains. Sam fights the feelings of peace and warmth that follow the radiating chill, but by the time it reaches his stomach he’s been lulled into a trance.

That’s when Lucifer starts talking.

“I won’t lie to you, Sam. I wasn’t kind to you in the beginning. I didn’t hurt you. I never would. But I locked you up, trapped you, and yes, I enjoyed it. I enjoyed watching you flit around, enjoyed watching you search desperately for an escape and lose all your hope. But as time passed… I began to understand. I thought I’d understood you before we fell into the Cage, but I was wrong. When I saw your resignation and acceptance, that’s really when I started.”

The soft chill starts traveling down Sam’s left leg, loosening the thigh and calf muscles he hadn’t even been aware had been so tense, sealing open wounds and straightening fractures painlessly.

“But I still couldn’t do anything. You have to understand, Sam, I was sealed in the Cage for millennia, left to rot. I was in no shape to battle, and I was clearly never destined to win against Michael. I just wanted it to be over with… Michael, he was never supposed to be in the Cage, and he knew it. He was so angry, and I couldn’t protect myself or you from him. And for that, I’m sorry. And I’m sorry for what the memory of the cage has put you through since.”

“Mm,” Sam intones in some half-awake sense of acknowledgement.

He hears Lucifer huff lightly in response, and the relieving chill moves on to Sam’s arms.

Sam perks up a little, saying, “If that’s the case, it still doesn’t make sense that I’d imagine you instead of Michael torturing me.”

“Maybe because Michael never understood you. All he did was torture you, Sam, physically. But in the beginning, I taunted you and pried apart all your securities. Apparently I made the more lasting impression…” he trails off thoughtfully.

The chill moves onto Sam’s other arm, and Sam almost groans in relief as Lucifer heals a break in his arm that his hallucinations always made sure to break as often as possible.

“Your hallucinations might have something to do with the Cage, as well. You see, Sam, the Cage isn’t simply a box. It’s… almost interdimensional, and it’s constantly shifting and changing, almost like a labyrinth. It’s not built to be understood, especially by a human. Your memories and comprehension of it have certainly been scrambled by your resurrection. And by the way, you need to turn over if you want me to heal your back.”

Sam inwardly debates for a moment, but the Devil has only healed him so far, and Sam really would like those festering sores and open cuts and black bruises healed some time soon. So he turns over, and Lucifer starts healing the back of his head. Sam represses the nearly unbearable urge to laugh at the situation.

“How’d you get out?” Sam mumbles into the pillow. Somehow Lucifer hears him.

“How did Castiel return?”

Sam almost winces at the memory of his old friend, but represses it in lieu of the present situation. “So you think God did it?”

The chill pauses just above the small of his back, and after a moment, Lucifer answers reluctantly, “I wouldn’t be surprised.”

Sam hums noncommittally, and Lucifer continues working on Sam’s legs and arms in a strangely comfortable silence.

Sam listens to Lucifer breathe, and he wonders if Lucifer’s only breathing for his benefit.

He probably is, Sam decides.

The chill moves onto Sam’s arms, and Sam breaks the silence by asking sluggishly, “What do you think you’ll do now?”

Lucifer inhales deeply, then answers after a moment, “I don’t know yet… I suppose… I might see if I can find a way to bring Gabriel back. Perhaps later I’ll see how Heaven’s handling the new order, but I imagine I wouldn’t be very welcome there,” he says with a rueful laugh that makes Sam want to smile. “And I would like to do something about your hallucinations, Sam, if that’s all right with you,” he adds on tentatively.

Sam frowns lightly, trying to think through the warm haze he’s been lulled into. He thinks of his hallucinations, and he thinks of this Lucifer, trying to make amends despite his own confusion. “Yeah, that would be good,” he says into the pillow.

The chill hovers over Sam’s hand for a moment then disappears. “There you go,” says Lucifer. “That should tide you over for a day or so.”

“Just a day or so?” Sam mumbles.

Lucifer laughs sadly. “Just a day or so, Sam. I’m afraid the Cage just wasn’t very good to you.”

“Oh, well,” Sam says. He lifts his head up to turn to look up at Lucifer, but the Devil’s just out of sight. “Thanks,” he says, and he means it.

A cool hand grips his shoulder. “Stay safe, Sam,” Lucifer says, something odd in his voice, before pulling away.

Sam turns over reluctantly to get a good look at him, but by the time Sam looks around the room, Lucifer’s gone.


End file.
